


The Songs You Like Never Stick at First

by sablier_bloque



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sablier_bloque/pseuds/sablier_bloque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Joe Jonas are the best in the music industry at finding talent, even though they never had a chance to make their own records. Nick's a faithful husband to his job and Joe's on his third divorce when their family decides it's time for them to get their lives back in order, and they're shipped off to fix up the family's beach house in Florida. Through picking out paint colors, constant bickering, and a brief fling with David Henrie, Nick realizes that the one thing in his life he's ever really needed is his brother. Written for jb_bigbang 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Songs You Like Never Stick at First

“ _Your brother’s getting another divorce._ ”

“I guess you’re not talking about Kevin,” Nick replies, taking a drink of his triple shot latte. He wrinkles his nose, because it’s already getting cold.

“ _Since Kevin is still in his first marriage, that would be impossible_ ,” his mom says over the phone. She sounds a bit exasperated, but he can’t exactly blame her, can he? Joe’s already on his third divorce, and he’s only thirty years old. “I thought you might want a heads-up before you hear it from him, or, God forbid, his assistant.”

At least the first two marriages lasted a couple of years. This one didn’t even last—

“ _Six months,_ ” Mom states. “ _I can’t believe he couldn’t make it last longer than six months._ ”

“It’s not exactly like he and Taylor were the most compatible couple. I think people at the office were taking bets.” He sets his coffee down and switches the phone to his other ear.

“Six months,” she repeats. Despite the short duration of Joe’s marriage, her annoyance is still strange to hear. Joe is the mama’s boy of all of the brothers. Denise rarely shows exasperation toward any of them, but especially not toward Joe.

Nick’s also surprised to hear from her. He’s at work, for one, sitting at his desk at his father’s record company, Jonas Records; and two, Denise isn’t the type of mom who complains to one son about the other.

“Dad doesn’t know yet?” Nick guesses. She wouldn’t have called Nick if she could have talked to Dad instead.

“ _No, he’s in a meeting and I can’t get ahold of him._ ” She’s quiet for a minute. “ _Maybe you could talk to Joe, Nicky._ ”

Nick’s brow furrows at the nickname. Joe is the only one who calls him that these days. It’s Nick to the family, and Nicholas to business associates, but never _Nicky_.

“Yeah, Mom. I’ll talk to him. I don’t know what to say, though. ‘Joe, stop marrying every girl you meet’ isn’t going to make much of a difference.”

“ _Try, for me_?” his mom asks. “ _I tried to talk to him when he told me, but he basically dropped the news and hung up._ ”

Nick promises that he will and tells her that he’ll see her at dinner on Wednesday. Nick and Joe have to go to some schmoozy soirée to represent the company tonight, and he’ll talk to his brother then.

Over the past few years, Nick and Joe have become the life and breath of Jonas Records’ A&R department. They scout talent. Joe brings them in – he hits clubs and parties all over the country looking for the next name that’s both worthy of the Top 40 and capable of landing there more than once. In the simplest of terms, Joe gets paid to party. Nick was never quite sure if that was a good idea, considering Joe’s less-than-stellar reputation in high school and college. Nick has spent the majority of his life watching from quiet, dark corners -- in their childhood home, at clubs, at parties, and even at family reunions while his brother took the spotlight.

Yet when it comes to their work, they’re good together. It’s up to Nick to get the contracts going and get the talent in the studio, but he couldn’t do it without Joe’s intuitive radar for finding the talent. Nick isn’t sure how he does it. Joe found Leigh Gunn, whose album just went platinum, singing along to a grocery store’s Muzak station while she rang up his Snickers bar and Dr. Pepper in Florida. He found Elijah Turner playing violin in an Illinois park, and it turned out he could rock a guitar, slide knowing fingers over piano keys, and hum a tune as well.

Nick needs Joe in this company, but Joe needs Nick, too, and everyone seems to forget that. Joe gets the credit for reeling in these amazing artists, but where would they be without Nick getting in there and doing the grunt work? He makes sure that the musicians can actually get in the studio, makes sure that everyone gets their money.

Nick can’t say that Joe’s radar is perfect, either. He did find Taylor Swift catering a post-Grammy event last year. She thrust her demo at him as soon as she realized that Joe Jonas meant Jonas Records. Nick _might_ have stalled on the contract for as long as possible. He’s still stalling, actually. Those pesky lawyers just can’t seem to get it right when it comes to signing Taylor. It’s not that Nick doesn’t like her music, though they’ve never signed a country artist before; it’s that Nick knew that Joe wanted Taylor signed because Joe wanted Taylor. He didn’t think it would last long, and having her signed to the label would bring every problem imaginable. Joe’s divorce just proved Nick right, and he’ll try not to tell Joe, “ _I told you so_ ” at the party tonight.

Nick leaves his office and goes down the two flights of stairs that will lead him to Joe’s assistant. Her desk is perched right outside of the office that belongs to Joe but which Joe hardly ever uses.

“My brother wouldn’t happen to actually be in, would he?” he asks Gina. Her wavy auburn hair that usually falls to her shoulders is haphazardly pulled into a messy ponytail.

“I’m about to answer you, Nicholas, but you’re going to need to sit down. You may actually faint in shock. Actually, have you checked your levels recently? ‘Cause your blood sugar might freak the fuck ou—”

“I take it he’s in,” Nick interrupts, grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Joe Jonas is in the building, and actually _inside_ his office. Possibly doing work. I don’t know for sure, though, because I’m scared to go in there. Oh and he’s also wearing a suit, so…”

Joe in a suit means that he’s playing businessman today. He constantly makes fun of Nick for always wearing a suit when he’s working. “ _We’re record guys, Nicky. Not corporate monkeys_.”

“Thanks.” Nick walks into Joe’s office without knocking on the door and sees that his brother is on the phone with someone. Nick sits down in the brown leather chair in front of Joe’s desk.

“Maggie, darling, don’t even worry your pretty little head. I’m sure there’s something we can do for him.”

Nick’s hoping Joe’s conversation with her is almost over, because she can easily keep you on the phone for half an hour.

“No, I’m not lying,” Joe says, rolling his eyes at her and nodding his head to Nick to acknowledge his presence. His jacket is slung over his chair. The gray striped tie that Nick bought him for Christmas last year is loose at his collar, but his cufflinks are still on and the shirt still looks crisp and unwrinkled.

“Yeah, I know,” Joe continues. “Nick already said he’d look over the contract on Monday to give Shirley an overview.”

Nick didn’t say anything about any contracts and he has a doctor’s appointment on Monday.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he pulls it out to check the caller ID. _Aunt Rhonda_. He hasn’t spoken to her in at least three years, meaning that the Jonas family grapevine has already heard the news. He hits _ignore_ and puts it back in his pocket; he’ll deal with them later.

“Maggie, love,” Joe starts, but he isn’t able to get anything else in. It’s not because she doesn’t like Joe – he’s the only person Nick knows that can actually call her Maggie; she expects everyone else to call her Margaret. Joe says it’s because she’s known him since he was in diapers, and “Maggie” is a lot easier to say when you’re two than “Margaret” is, but Nick has known her that long too. He just thinks she needs to remove the gigantic stick that’s been in her ass for as long as he’s worked here.

“Maggie, I’ve got to go. As you know, I’m getting divorced. Therefore, I have a hot date. Gotta get back out on the scene.”

Nick rolls his eyes but can’t help but smile when he sees the grin on Joe’s face. That finally shut her up.

“I’d never lie to you. Why do you keep accusing that of me today?” Joe asks as he sits on his desk in front of Nick. “Why can’t my brother be my hot date? He’s a good looking guy.”

Nick’s eyebrows shoot up. This woman is a gossiping queen, and if she takes that _seriously_ …

“I think you’re just jealous, Maggie. I’ve seen you checking out his ass.”

Nick can’t even try to hide the distaste written on his face. Joe laughs at him and kicks him again.

“You’re not that old. Jesus. Make it sound like you’re 80 or something. But really, babe, I have to go.” Joe closes his phone without waiting for a reply, which is the only way to get off the phone with Margaret.

“Hiya, Nicky.” Joe stands and runs his fingers through Nick’s hair. Nick ducks away from his brother’s hand, but Joe doesn’t pay attention. He moves around to the other side of his desk and sits behind it. “Did you want to go get a coffee or something? You’re here a little early to get me for the party. It’s only,” he looks at his watch, “five-ish.”

Nick shrugs. “I figured that we would need to discuss the state of Taylor Jonas’, er, excuse me, Taylor _Swift’s_ contract.”

Joe flashes his teeth in a forced smile. “Funny, Nicholas.”

“Did she cheat on you? Insist on sleeping on _your_ side of the bed? Demand that you drink milk from a glass instead of the carton?”

“Oh, don’t even act like you’re siding with Taylor here,” Joe says. “You’ve never liked her. You’ve been stalling her contract on purpose this entire time.”

“And aren’t you glad I did?” Nick asks. “I knew that this wouldn’t—”

“Let’s not start with the _I told you so_ ’s. I haven’t even had a drink yet today, and I’m going to need a lot of alcohol for that.”

Nick decides to let the alcohol comment slide. Alcohol is the last thing that Joe needs. “Okay, I won’t say that I told you so, but Joe, just ‘cause you like a girl doesn’t mean you have to marry her.”

“I thought Taylor was different.”

“Because you’re into controlling bitches. You’ve got Mom worried and upset, man. Next girl you meet, wait a couple of years before popping the question, yeah?”

Joe leans his elbows on the desk and covers his face with his hands. “I promise nothing to the man who is too busy wrapped up in this damn company to even find himself a girl.”

Nick hasn’t dated a girl in three years. Because he doesn’t date _girls_ anymore. His idiot brother has yet to figure this out.

“This is more than a ‘damn company.’ This is family.”

“This isn’t even what you wanted to do. What either of us wanted to do. Remember when it was about our own music instead of everyone else’s?”

The room is too quiet all of a sudden, blood pounding in Nick’s ears. It’s been so long since he’s thought about his own music, playing around on the guitar and piano and drums in the basement when he and his brothers were just kids. It’s been so long because it used to make Nick so angry that he wasn’t allowed to make that his own life.

“Dad could’ve made us big, Nicky. We could be these people that we sign.” Joe leans forward, voice suddenly so soft. “We’re good at finding good music because it’s who we are.”

Nick wonders how this conversation turned from Joe’s failed love life to their mutual failed dreams.

Nick stands up. “I, uh, I’ve got a little more work to do before we go to the party tonight. I’ll come back in a little while.”

Joe clears his throat. “Nah, I’ll pick you up at seven. I’m done with the office today.”

Nick would normally come back with “ _Shocking_ ” or “ _You mean for the month, right?_ ” but he decides that it isn’t worth it.

///

The first thing that Joe does when they arrive at Kanye West’s forty-third birthday party is order a Crown and Coke. The waiter asks Nick if he’d like anything, and Nick politely declines. Even if drinking isn’t the best idea for his blood sugar, one of them should be sober enough to use common sense, and that is never Joe.

Nick sees the usual faces here, Mark Dowden from Sony Records, Jay-Z, John Mayer, Alicia Keys. Lady Gaga isn’t here yet, but she’s a late guest to every soirée at which Nick has seen her. Adam Levine has a girl draped on both arms, both ladies half his age. Every ex-girlfriend that Kanye has had in the past fifteen years is here, and Nick doesn’t understand why Kanye insists on inviting them. Or better yet, why they even come.

Nick hears Joe call out “Moon,” and he turns around to greet her. Moonbeam Starshine, the unfortunate daughter of hippies who wished they were alive during Woodstock, is the bassist of one of Joe and Nick’s bands, Three-Pronged Fork. Despite their folk-rock sound, they opened for Kanye’s tour last year. The band also has Anna Smith, who has been dying her hair every color under the sun since she was twelve, landing her the nickname “Koolaidria,” but Kool for short. She plays the drums like the drumsticks are a part of her being, and Nick wishes that Joe would’ve fallen for her instead of Taylor.

Nick loves both of them; they’re talented and serious about their craft. The leader of their band, Bianca Sanderson, is another story. Nick almost didn’t want to sign them simply because of his hatred of Bianca, but Joe’s persistence and the fact that they truly do have a great sound kept the contract going.

Moon gives both Nick and Joe a hug, her dark hair brushing Nick’s shoulder. She has big, brown eyes and full lips, and the sequined silver dress that falls to her thighs contrasts beautifully with her brown skin.

“Are the other girls here?” Joe asks.

Moon nods. “Yes, and Bianca is in a lovely mood, Nick, so beware.”

“Perhaps I’ll just leave now,” Nick replies, and Joe grabs his shoulder.

“Not a chance, Nicky. You’re my date tonight. You can’t ditch me.”

Moon raises her eyebrows.

“I’m getting a divorce, Moon,” Joe states with a matter-of-fact tone, a sly grin on his face. “You single? ‘Cause I’m looking.”

“Why don’t you wait to actually sign the papers before luring another girl into your web?” Nick asks.

“Taylor lured _me_ , young Nicholas.”

“And the other girls?”

“That’s besides the point.” Joe orders Moon a drink, which she accepts, but she gives Nick a look letting him know that she’s not falling for it.

Nick and Joe get separated as the night continues. It’s common knowledge that if you have hot talent, you go to Joe first, not Nick. Nick signs very few people without Joe convincing him first, and if they’re together when they stumble across new talent, Nick usually says no.

Bianca comes up to him before he has a chance to run away. She’s already drunk, with a cigarette in hand and a box of Marlboro Ultra Lights tucked into the back pocket of her Seven jeans. She takes a sip of red wine.

“Nicholas,” she says. “You’re looking exceptionally boring this evening.”  
 “Bianca, you’re looking exceptionally insane this evening.” Bianca is pale with dark hair that is normally straightened but is worn curly right now. Her eyeliner is smudged around her eyes, and she looks, as Joe would say, like a hot mess.

“Bad day, B?” he asks her.

“Been dreading seeing your ass all day.”

“You’d think you’d be nicer to your record exec.”

“You think you’d be nicer to the lead of the band that makes you money,” she bites back. “I actually came over here to ask you a question.”

“Yeah?”

She smirks. “Are you suddenly into incest? Your brother’s telling the whole fucking party that you’re his date tonight.”

Nick understands that it’s a joke, because Joe likes to play around. But Nick also knows how dead serious Joe can sound while intoxicated, and that really isn’t something that should be taken the wrong way.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered, _Nicky._ ”

Nick sets his soda down. “I swear to God, that _if_ , and that is a big ‘if,’ Bianca, we re-sign you after this contract is up, there will be a clause about you calling me ‘Nicky.’”

 _“Do you feel emasculated? Are you not comfortable enough with your sexuality that a damn nickname twists your panties in a wad?”_

 _Joe walks up and throws his arm around Bianca’s shoulder. “One day, B, Nick is going to murder you in his sleep if you don’t stop harassing him.” He takes the cigarette from her hand and brings it to his lips._

 _“It’ll almost be worth it.”_

 _Joe kisses her cheek before exhaling the smoke. “But then I’ll have to bail him out of jail and make sure that he gets conjugal visits when he gets to prison and you wouldn’t want to put that stress on me, right?”_

 _“True, Joseph. You’d have a new wife by then, trying to steal your money.”_

 _“That’s what pre-nups are for.”_

 _Watching Joe and Bianca together drives Nick crazy. Bianca makes Nick flush with anger, makes his heart beat too quickly and his blood pressure go too high. Joe takes all of her stingers with a laugh and hugs her and pats her back. And even Bianca is susceptible to Joe’s charm._

 _Nick hates it._

 _No one is immune to Joe, it seems. No one sees that he’s careless and so wrapped in the cocoon of his own world that he pays no attention to the feelings of the people around him. Joe makes everyone laugh and that’s all it takes for him to steal their hearts._

 _That used to be all it took for Joe to have Nick’s heart, too. But then Nick grew up._

 __

///

 _So far, Wednesday’s dinner with the family is awkward._

 _Mom’s sitting directly across from Nick at the one of their favorite restaurants in Toluca Lake, _Chez Nous_. She looks like a walking ad for Ralph Lauren tonight with crisp lines and bold colors. Her curly brown hair is pulled back loosely, revealing pearl stud earrings that Nick bought for her at Christmas two years ago. She keeps clearing her throat and forcing a smile, asking Joe and Kevin and Nick about the company. Frankie’s a sophomore at University of Texas and Nick thus begrudges him the ability to skip out on tonight’s family get-together._

Dad hasn’t said much since they got there. He’s still in his suit from work, and he’s taken every call he’s received instead of sending them to voicemail like he usually does.

“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before our food gets here,” Mom says before leaving the table, her eyes searching for Dad’s. The moment she’s out of sight, Dad clears his throat.

“Joe,” he says, his voice commanding and serious like it is at board functions and stockholder meetings. “You’re…”

Dad is never one to pause while speaking. He’s always self-assured and flawless in his discussions. Nick knows this is serious.

“You’ve got to stop. Your mom is upset right now—”

“Dad, I know. I know, I’m sorry. Taylor just—”

“Taylor and Kristen and Michelle. This isn’t your first rodeo.”

Joe’s jaw is clenched, his eyes glued to the bread plate in front of him.

Nick takes a deep breath, recalling many family dinners where Dad gave Joe a hard time. Mom and Dad were happy about his first marriage, overfilled with joy that Joe was following Kevin’s footsteps and had found himself a nice girl. But wedding number two and three didn’t receive the same sentiments from the family, especially Dad. Dinners were awkward before then, though. Dad chastised Joe for his mediocre grades. He expressed his unhappiness about Joe’s habits when it comes to women and drinking.

“I’m glad I was just washing up,” Mom says as she sits down at the table. “There was such a long line. Why is there always a line to the women’s restroom?”

“Because women always go to the bathroom in groups,” Kevin offers, trying to lighten the situation with a smile.

“Yes, Kevin, I’m sure that’s it,” Joe says.

The waitress brings their food. Nick had ordered coq au vin and steamed vegetables. Joe had ordered steak au poivre with whipped potatoes, and when the waitress sets it down in front of Joe, Nick is a tiny bit jealous.

“You want to switch?” Joe asks, looking at the way Nick is eyeing his food. Nick shrugs, but Joe takes it for the yes that it’s meant to be and hands Nick is plate.

“Have either of you boys thought about taking a vacation lately?” Mom asks.

“We’re starting that new Burcher contract,” Nick says. “It’s not really the best time to run off to Hawaii, as tempting as that sounds.”

“Actually, I’m taking on the Burcher record deal,” Kevin says.

Nick’s forehead crinkles in confusion. It’s an important account, but not crucial enough for Kevin to handle.

“Kevin, you know we’ve got it under control. Nick and I have already started on the negotiations,” Joe says.

“I’m aware of that,” Kevin replies. “But…” he sighs. He looks at Mom and Dad before continuing. “We think it’d be a good idea if you and Nick got away from everything for a while.”

“Okay,” Joe says hesitantly, the _O_ held a beat longer than necessary. Nick’s eyes widen.

“Do you remember your Uncle Daniel?” Mom asks.

“Yeah. We used to go to his beach house all of the time.”

“Right. You only met him a couple of times, but he was always so fond of you. He had possession of the beach house in Florida before he passed away. He left it to you since you always showed an interest in his stories about St. Augustine when you were younger.”

“The place apparently needs a lot of work because of the hurricane that hit last year,” Dad says. “Your mother and I would like you and Nick to fix it up. You can either keep the place or sell it, it’s up to you, but we think that both of you could use a break from work, from life.” He pointedly looks at Joe. “You could work on the house and maybe have a bit of fun.”

 _A bit of fun? Not fucking likely_ , Nick thinks.

“So, I now own Uncle Daniel’s beach house in St. Augustine?” Joe asks.

“Yes.”

“That’s actually incredibly awesome. Any idea how long it’ll take?”

Nick is so _glad_ that Joe finds this _incredibly awesome_.

“We’re guessing a couple of months or so,” Dad says. “We haven’t actually seen anything about it, so we’re unsure.”

“Two months?” Nick asks. That’s a long fucking time, considering the A&R department pretty much runs because Nick and Joe grease the wheels. Well, because Nick does.

“I don’t think Nick can handle being with me and only me in Florida for that long,” Joe says, smirking.

“I know it’ll be work,” Mom says, “but you’ll be able to explore the area and get away from the company. You’ve been working too much lately, Nick. And I think you two will have a lovely time.” She smiles at Nick.

Joe grabs his forearm and gives Nick the same smile. Nick instantly realizes that Joe gets it from his mom. It’s that smile that Nick both loves and hates. 

Joe Fucking Jonas and the messes he gets them in.

///

“Two months, huh?” Selena Gomez asks the next day, sitting in Nick’s living room. “Nicholas Jonas is going to be away from the office for that long?”

“Joe and I can work fast, I’m sure,” Nick replies. “I’m hoping for shorter than that. It’s a house, not a mansion.”

“What if they don’t have a Starbucks?”

“It’s a Florida beach, Selena. Not a third-world country.”

“I’m just preparing you. You might end up in some 20-person town in the outskirts of St. Augustine. You’ll have to drive an hour just to get a decent cup of joe.”

Nick looks at her.

“Bad word choice. You’re going to have a lot of Joe! A whole lot of Joe. Heaven help you.”

Selena and Joe have never been the best of friends. They only put up with one another because of Nick, and that is on a very basic level. They hardly know how to be cordial to one another.

Nick thinks that Selena is beautiful, shockingly so, with creamy skin that looks velvety smooth, brown bob that frames her doll-like face, and soft, brown eyes. He has never understood why Joe never felt the same way. Yeah, Nick and Selena dated in grad school, but Joe never takes an interest in Nick’s love life. Selena was the last girl he dated because he finally came to terms with the fact that girls just aren’t his gender of choice.

Selena works for Jonas Records as well. With her baby face and petite frame, she’s able to hide her shark-like business prowess, and Kevin Jonas Sr. loves her for it. Selena always said that she’s sorry that she turned Nick gay, but the job was worth it.

“I’m already dreading this trip, Selena. Please don’t make it worse with your hypothetical scenarios,” Nick says.

“Tell Joe you don’t want to go.”

“I’ve already tried that.” You can mark last night as another fight between Joe and Nick, which boiled down to what their fights usually boil down to – Joe needs to grow up and Nick needs to live a little. “I’m not really doing it for him, anyway. Do Mom and Dad really think a trip to Florida, where Joe can lie on the beach all day and drink margaritas, is going to make him get his head on straight?”

“Well, think positively – it’s kind of like a vacation for you!” Selena says. “You’ve got sun and sand here, but it’s different in Florida. Plus hot boys on the beach. You can probably get some gorgeous freshman twink on his first Spring Break—“

“I am not interested in tapping random ass while I’m in St. Augustine.”

“What about random ass?” Joe asks, as he lets himself into Nick’s apartment.

“That you’re not getting any while we’re in Florida.”

“Oh, hell yeah, I am.” Joe throws his keys on the entrance table and sets his messenger bag beside it. “Oh, I didn’t know Saint Selena of Encino would be here.”

“Nice to see you too, Joseph. Congratulations on your third divorce.”

Joe doesn’t bite back, to Nick’s surprise. He just looks at Nick and holds up a white paper bag. “I’ve brought goods as a peace offering.”

“No one wants to see what ridiculous thing you’re calling fashionable these days,” Selena says.

“Door’s that way, sweetie,” Joe replies without even glancing at her. Joe sits next to Nick and props his legs on the brown leather ottoman. His left hand falls on Nick’s thigh while his right plops the white paper bag in Nick’s lap. Nick moves his leg away from the touch, picking up the bag so that he can bring his knees to his chest.

Joe is wearing purposefully distressed jeans with a hole in the knee and a kelly green t-shirt with a purposeless mouse on it. Nick has never understood that shirt.

“What’d you bring?” Nick asks.

“Mom made you pumpkin pie.”

“You know, I sometimes find you tolerable,” Nick says, reaching for the bag.

“Uh-uh.” Joe pulls it back. “Tolerable isn’t going to cut it. Tell me you love me.”

“Yes, yes. Just give me the damn bag.”

“And what else?” Joe asks.

“What do you mean, ‘what else?’”

“Tell me you’ll go to St. Augustine.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m going. I don’t have a choice anyway.”

“Very true, Nicky.” He hands Nick the bag. “We’re leaving next Thursday, by the way.”

///

It’s been a long time since Nick’s been to St. Augustine; high school, probably. He’s always been too busy with school or his job to have time to get away from the grind. Nick remembers that their beach house didn’t look like _this_ , though.

Mom wasn’t kidding when she said that the hurricane did a number on it. A lot of the white paint on the back of the house was washed off by the harsh wind and rain. Half of the roof is missing, covered by a tacky blue tarp that some saintly neighbor put on it. One of the windows is broken, the hole bracketed by plywood, and the rest are missing screens. The screen door on the back porch is hanging on the hinge by nothing more than a strong will to survive.

Joe whistles. “Damn, this place is a mess,” he says. Nick can always count on his brother to be blatantly obvious.

The inside of the house isn’t too terrible. There’s water damage in the two of the three bedrooms from the missing roof, and some of the furniture is warped. Nick and Joe’s old bedroom is mostly okay, but Nick hasn’t slept in a twin bed since, well, probably since he was last here.

“Throw me the keys,” Joe says. “I’m going to get our stuff out of the car.”

“Why?” Nick asks.

Joe looks at Nick like that’s the dumbest question he’s ever been asked. “To unpack?”

“You can’t honestly think we’re staying here. This place could be condemned.”

“My little brother, always the exaggerator,” Joe says, as if he hasn’t blown up every story he’s ever told to ridiculous proportions. “There’s a bedroom and a kitchen and the living room’s fine. Pretty sure we’ll survive.”

“Why do we need to _survive_ when we can be _comfortable?_ ”

“Come on, Nicky,” Joe says, crossing the room and putting his hands on Nick’s shoulders. “It’s an adventure – like camping out or something. Please?” He holds the word for several beats before batting his eyelashes.

Nick rolls his eyes. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

Joe takes the keys and runs outside with a huge grin on his face.

///

There’s a grocery store within walking distance – and a Starbucks, too. Selena did have him a little worried, if he’s going to be completely honest with himself. He takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” Joe asks.

“Taking a picture to show Selena that there _are_ Starbucks in St. Augustine.” He sends it with _Take that, bitch. I even walked here_ attached to the picture, and he goes inside to order his usual triple shot latte. Joe gets one of those milkshake things that he always drinks too fast and then complains about having a brain freeze.

“When are you going to learn to drink it slowly?” Nick asks.

“When it stops tasting so good.”

Unfortunately, there’s a liquor store also within walking distance, and Joe stops by for some Crown and Belvedere. “You won’t mind the house so much with a little bit of this in you,” Joe says, tapping the bottle of vodka.

“I’ll pass,” Nick replies from the door of the little shop. The old woman at the counter looks like she’s had a few too many every day of her life. She has box-dyed blonde hair with gray roots, and the cut is short and disheveled. She looks like she doesn’t take shit from anyone, yet Joe manages to charm his way into a discount – which, of course, he doesn’t need.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Nick says as they walk back to the house.

“Huh?”

“Charm everyone you meet. Everyone and their sister is into you the second they meet you.”

Joe shrugs. “It’s in the genes, Nicholas. You’d have it too if you’d loosen the hell up every now and again. Or maybe got laid more than once a decade.”

Nick takes a deep breath and sends a silent prayer to the sky that he won’t kill Joe by the time this trip is over.

///

When they get back to the house, there’s a woman sitting on the steps leading to the front porch. She’s small, with olive skin and short, dyed-red hair that falls right below her ears. She introduces herself as Sandra Henrie, the owner of the new house about a hundred yards down from theirs.

“I saw the car parked in your driveway on my walk,” she says, “and I thought I’d see who owned the place. You boys here to fix it up?”

“Hopefully,” Nick replies, realizing that they don’t know the first thing about fixing the house.

“I don’t know what kind of work you’re in, but my nephews are contractors. They do a lot with building new homes in the area, and fixing some up that got damaged in the storm. They might be able to help.”

“That’d be great,” Joe says with a wide smile.

“Let me see if they’re free tonight and you boys can come over for dinner.”

Nick’s a little skeptical since he’s never met anyone who invites you over the second you meet them, but Joe’s saying yes before Nick can come up with a polite way to decline.

Sandra’s home, with the terracotta-colored walls and deep red upholstery, stands in stark contrast to the robin’s egg blues and whites of their house. It’s as if she’s paying homage to the sun that rises on the water’s horizon instead of the sea itself. It reminds Nick of the Spanish-inspired design and architecture he’s grown up with in California, and he instantly feels at home.

Joe’s peering into pots on the stove as soon as they walk into the kitchen. Sandra says that she hopes they aren’t vegetarians since she’s making chicken marsala, and Joe assures her of the contrary.

Her nephews are late and Sandra informs them that this is always the case. When they do show up, it’s to the sound of a key in the lock instead of a knock on the door. Joe’s pouring glasses of Santa Margherita pinot grigio when Sandra introduces David and his younger brother, Lorenzo. They both have dark hair, wet as though they ran over after a quick shower. David’s bigger, in height and bulk, and oddly pale compared to his aunt and brother. Lorenzo’s hair shags into his eyes and curls over the tops of his ears, while David’s is cut short.

“My brother retired a couple of years ago,” Sandy says. “And David and Lorenzo took over from there. They’ve been doing such a great job with the company too.”

David keeps looking at Nick with this cocky little smirk. It’s hard for Nick to pay attention.

“So,” David says, interrupting his aunt. “You guys are….” He points to Nick and Joe, his tone questioning.

“Brothers,” Joe says, putting butter into the bowl of mashed potatoes like Sandra asked, oblivious to David’s insinuation and his ensuing smile.

“Oh, good.” His eyes flash to Nick.

Lorenzo rolls his eyes at David and smacks the back of his head.

///

David and Lorenzo show up at the house the next morning in blue jeans, boots, and -- for David -- a wifebeater. Nick’s eyes widen and follow the curved lines of his biceps, the way the veins of his forearms shift when his hands move to his back pockets. Nick should hate the way David smiles – so self-assured – but it’s been so long since someone has really looked at Nick, since someone has given him the time of day and didn’t want a record deal out of it, that he lets it fly.

David and Lorenzo spend a few hours checking the house for any hidden damage. Joe wakes up halfway through, walking into the living room with nothing on but glasses and a pair of boxer-briefs.

“You could at least put some clothes on,” Nick says before Joe flips him off. Joe pours himself a cup of coffee and Nick finds himself comparing Joe’s back and shoulders to David’s, smirking a little at the idea that despite Joe’s obsession with working out, he’ll never be as buff as David. Even then, Joe is, well, beautiful, with his pretty, tan skin and dark lashes. Nick looks away quickly, gut clenching and his face flushing.

David walks in, his shirt and jeans smeared with dirt and dust, wiping sweat from his neck with a bandana that he stuffs into his back pocket. “Is this a clothes-optional party?” David asks.

“No, Joe was just raised by wolves and can’t get dressed when company’s around.”

“You can’t make comments like that when we grew up together,” Joe says, his voice rough with sleep.

Nick can’t think of a comeback, so he makes Joe get dressed. They all sit down a few minutes later to discuss the house. They need a new roof, obviously. Some of the insulation needs to be fixed, and they need new ceilings in the two damaged bedrooms.

“The railing on the porches, of course… a new screen door,” Lorenzo says. “Painting.”

“Oh, we can do that,” Joe says. “I’m up for doing all of it, but I don’t know how to fix a ceiling or put up a new roof.”

“All right,” David says. “I can get you some estimates within the next few days?” He looks to Nick.

“Sure,” Nick says, pulling a business card out of his wallet and handing it to David. He watches for the familiar look of recognition, of realization of what exactly the last name _Jonas_ entails, but it never comes.

“I’ll call you,” David says, and Nick nods, hoping his face isn’t red, wondering if Joe is even aware.

///

“Those colors look exactly the same,” Nick says.

“No they don’t.” Joe holds the swatches closer to Nick’s face. “Look, this one’s called ‘Peppermint’ and this one’s ‘Spearmint.’” Nick looks at Joe, who sighs. “How did you even design your apartment if you can’t even tell colors apart?”

“I didn’t. I hired an interior decorator.”

“Unbelievable.”

///

David calls Nick two days later, asking him to dinner to discuss the house. “It’s my treat,” David says, as if Nick needs a hint that it’s a date; as if Nick actually needs an excuse to say yes.

Joe’s clothes are still in his suitcase, probably waiting for Nick to give in and hang them up himself. Nick unpacked the first day, though, and he stands in front of the closet, feeling stupid and girly because he can’t decide what to wear.

“What’s the occasion, dude?” Joe asks, walking in with an apple in his hand.

“Meeting David to discuss the price estimates.”

“So? Put some clothes on and go. What is this, a date?”

Nick shrugs a little, not wanting to say yes, but not wanting to say no, either.

“Wait.” A drop of juice from the apple slides out of the corner of Joe’s mouth, and he licks it up. “This is a date?”

Nick turns back around and stares at the closet.

“Holy shit!” Nick hears Joe sit on his bed. “How long have you been banging guys?” Before Nick can answer, his brother continues. “Selena did this, didn’t she?”

“What?” Nick asks. “Are you serious?”

“I can’t believe you never told me this. That you hid this from me.” Joe looks as if he’s trying to decide if he’s angry or just sad; his body is tense, his hand gripping the apple like he’s trying to break it. Yet his face is soft with sadness. His eyes are wet and his lips gives the slightest tremble.

Nick shakes his head. “I didn’t hide it from anyone. Ask Mom. Ask Kevin. Ask your _assistant_. You’ve been too busy walking around in some drunken haze and marrying every bitch that you meet to pay attention.”

“Oh yes,” Joe says, and even though they’ve had their fair share of arguments, Nick’s never seen Joe’s face twisted so angrily. “The workaholic criticizes the alcoholic. We all have our vices, Nicky.” He stands, his shoulders tense. “Have fun on your date.”

Joe’s out the door before Nick can tell him to stay.

///

“You alright?” David asks. They’re at Santa Maria, one of those seafood places where you have to cross a dock to get to the lobby. Nick wonders how it even survived the hurricane.

“Yeah, Joe and I…” Nick shrugs. “It’s stupid.”

“Nah, it isn’t. You can tell me.” David’s wearing dark blue jeans and leather flip-flops with a gray polo shirt. Good thing Nick decided against the blazer.

“I’d rather just forget about it,” Nick says, trying to smile, but it feels forced. David’s grin, on the other hand, is wide and pretty, and Nick likes having it directed toward him.

They don’t even talk about the house until dinner is almost over. They discuss growing up in St. Augustine, David taking over his dad’s business. He asks Nick about LA, about the artists he works with, about Nick’s own music.

“You play all these instruments and you’re signing people instead of playing yourself?” David asks.

“You took over your dad’s business; you know how the family thing is.”

“So you’re going to take over it?”

“Probably not. My older brother, Kevin, will more than likely get it when Dad retires. That’s okay, though. Joe and I are great at what we do.”

“So, this trip to St. Augustine is just…”

“Fixing up the place. Taking a little breather. An experiment to see how long I can go without killing Joe.”

The waiter comes with their check, and while David pulls out his credit card, he discusses the house. He guesses it will take a month to get it all finished on their end, though Joe’s remodeling plans could take longer. Nick smiles at that, the first honest one all evening, because a month isn’t too bad.

When they leave, David presses Nick up against the side of Nick’s rental sedan. His grin is devious, playful, before he leans in and kisses Nick’s mouth, his tongue swiping against Nick’s lower lip.

And Nick kisses him right back, turning them around so that David’s against the car.

It’s good to have David’s warm, solid body against his, to feel David’s mouth against his own. They don’t stop until a woman clears her throat at them, and Nick apologizes sheepishly while David smirks.

///

It’s dark when Nick gets back to the house; quiet. Joe’s nowhere to be found in the house, but Nick thinks nothing of it. Nick’s not looking forward to that rendezvous after their tiff, anyway.

He calls Selena after he changes into a pair of sleep pants and a worn gray t-shirt.

“Aren’t you supposed to be making your brother a better man or something?” Selena asks. “And trying to get away from your job?”

“This can’t be a friendly call?” Nick replies, grinning because it’s good to hear Selena’s voice.

“Like you’re not calling to see what havoc is being wreaked in Jonas A&R.”

“Well, since you’re on to me, what _is_ going on?”

“Kevin’s being a good brother; keeping tabs on everything. Jennifer McNabb is wanting a new producer for the record, which isn’t shocking since her current one is—“

“Louis Graham, I know.”

“Right. Leigh’s been stopping by the studio to play with some sounds, but she won’t stop talking about how she doesn’t want to do a new album unless she can do a song with Stefani Germanotta.”

“I’d like to see her try,” Nick says, stepping onto the back porch. He sees a small bonfire on the shore, and he can just make out Joe’s dark silhouette against the firelight. He wonders if Joe’s been out here all night.

“Exactly,” Selena says, and Nick can just see her eye roll. “Other than that, it’s been pretty slow. Nothing to worry about, Nick.”

“Your voice gets a tiny bit higher when you lie, you know.”

She sighs. “Well, okay. It’s never slow, but it really is okay. How about there, though? Have you killed Joe yet?”

“I buried his body this morning.”

“Not in the sand, I hope. His corpse will turn up eventually that way.”

“Oh,” Nick replies. “Maybe I should dig him up and burn him instead?”

“This is why I love you, Nick. So innovative. Call me when you’re ready for vagina again.”

Joe must have heard Nick on the phone, because Joe’s walking toward him.

“I’ve got to go, Selena,” Nick says, and hangs up before she can reply. Joe’s walk is surprisingly even, and the bottle in hand is water, not whiskey. They regard each other for a minute before Joe opens his month.

“Taylor called while you were on your… date.”

“Joe,” Nick says, taking a step forward.

“You know, to say I led her on about the record deal, threatening to take all of my money – the usual ex-wife stuff.” Joe turns around, his back to Nick, and sits on the porch step. “The brilliant end to an already pleasant evening.”

“Joe,” Nick repeats, sitting down next to his brother, unsure of what to say. He was never good with the heart-to-hearts, with the comforting. Nick would rather just trap it all inside – forcing all the bad things back inside Pandora’s box. Joe’s the one who likes to leave it wide open.

“I don’t get it,” Joe starts, his voice soft. “When did I turn into the asshole?” Nick is silent, waiting for Joe to continue or to give up and go back inside. Joe turns his face toward him. “It wasn’t a rhetorical question, Nicky.”

“Oh,” Nick breathes, uncomfortable under Joe’s gaze, Joe’s proximity, Joe’s question. He looks away, thinking back to when they were kids and Joe, who always shone so brightly, always clung to Nick like he was the only thing that mattered. Nick hasn’t though about that Joe in a long time.

Nick shrugs. “I guess when you started doing part-time work for Dad when you were in college.”

“So, I started working for Dad and just… became a douche?”

“Nah,” Nick replies. “I mean…” Joe looks at him expectantly as Nick tries to pinpoint the moment Joe started changing. “I started dating that girl, Christine, and—”

“And you skipped out on our movie night to go on a date with her,” Joe finishes. There’s a heaviness that creeps between them, slow-blooming realization making Nick’s brow furrow. This careless, selfish version of his brother is because Nick cancelled their plans once? That’s petty… even for Joe.

Joe laughs unhappily to himself, like he’s come across some big secret. He’s shaking his head like he can’t believe it.

“What?”

Joe shakes his head again and stands up. He looks down at Nick. “How was your date?”

“It was good,” Nick replies.

“Good.” He turns around to leave. “Good night, Nick.”

Nick sits for a few minutes, replaying everything that’s happened with Joe today. The day has been a wild trip of emotions, leaving him exasperated and tired. He puts out Joe’s fire, making a mental note to clean up the charred wood in the morning, before heading to the bedroom. Joe’s already asleep, or at least pretending to be, on his tiny twin bed.

///

Nick wakes up to a gentle hand on his shoulder and Joe whispering his name. “Wake up, c’mon.”

“Ugh, why?” Nick asks. He opens his eyes slowly and sees that the room is still dark. “Too early.”

“Just get up, dude.”

“Joseph, go away!”

He hears Joe laugh, and Nick would punch him in the face if his arms weren’t glued to the bed. “I want to show you something.”

Nick groans. He hates Joe; he hates him. “I hate you.”

“I know… you can go back to sleep after. C’mon.” Nick gets up and follows Joe outside. It’s not so dark that Nick can’t see; the horizon is gray with the promise of morning. Nick notices that Joe cleaned up last night’s firewood, and when Nick sees the blanket lying on the sand, he realizes that Joe’s been up for a while. There’s a thermos on the blanket, which had better be filled with coffee, and a bag from McDonald’s.

“I got you a sausage biscuit with cheese, since that’s what you liked when we were kids,” Joe says. Nick nods because that hasn’t changed, but he’s still not sure why they’re out here when Nick’s bed is waiting for him. He sits down with Joe and his brother reaches across them to pour some coffee into the lid. He hands it to Nick.

“So why are we—”

“Patience, little bro.”

They’re both drinking from the same cup, passing it back and forth between bites of food. They’re silent, but all of the awkwardness from last night seems to have dissipated with the light breeze blowing over the shore.

Nick’s almost done with his biscuit when the sky finally starts to lighten, a pink glow crawling up the horizon. It’s not until the tip of the sun starts to follow until Nick gets it; that Joe woke Nick up just so they could see the sun rise.

And Nick remembers when he and Joe would go to beach when they were kids, days spent along the Pacific Ocean and strolling up and down Santa Monica Pier, and he’d sometimes wish he could see the sun rise over the water instead of just seeing its descent. Joe always told him that it’d look exactly the same, but Nick never believed him. It’s different; the air is fresher than at night, still sweet from morning dew, and it’s cheesy as hell, but there’s something to be said about seeing the day actually start before your eyes.

He turns to Joe whose eyes are glued to the view in front of them as he bites into his hashbrown.

“This is…” Nick says. “This is nice.” Joe’s smile is electric when he turns to face him, even more carefree than usual and it’s nice to see. Nick really can’t help but smile back.

The coffee is good -- warm too, though they don’t need that in the spring heat of beach. It’s not hot yet, at least not by Florida standards, but the days and nights are both pleasantly warm.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen the sun rise before.” Nick’s been up before dawn, sure, but it was for exams or for a hellish day in the office, and he was already inside before the sun came up.

“I have,” Joe says with a little snort, like it’s something that all of the cool kids do and Nick just isn’t cool enough.

“Yeah, coming home from the club, I’m sure.”

“Nick, bars close at two a.m. Where’ve you been?”

“Excuse me, coming home from some afterparty at Caleb Followill’s house.”

“Now that’s more like it.”

Nick takes another sip of coffee and listens to the water beating against the sand, almost melodic in his ears. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“What?” Joe replies.

“The night-time lifestyle. The bars and clubs and too many hangovers?”

Joe shrugs. “I don’t get hungover much anymore. It’s all about pacing yourself, drinking lots of water when you get home.”

“And the rest?”

Joe looks away from Nick and his eyes fall to the ocean. “It’s our job, man.”

That seems to be the excuse of the week; _it’s our job, it’s what we do. It’s what we’re good at._ Nick thinks back to David hassling him for not making his own music, and he frowns when he realizes that he hasn’t touched a guitar outside of the studio in months.

“What?” Joe asks.

“Do you ever miss playing? Our own stuff, I mean.”

“Yeah, of course.” Joe crumples their McDonald’s bag into a ball. “A lot.”

“Well, we’ve got a month here. We could go get a guitar and mess around with it.”

Joe grins and nods his head, running his fingers through his hair. “Not today, though,” he counters. “Today, we’re lying on the beach.”

“All day?”

“All day. You’re very pale, Nicholas. I expect to see a tan on you by the time the day is done.”

“I’m going to fry,” Nick says, throwing the makeshift ball at Joe’s face.

“Ugh, I suppose we can take breaks,” Joe replies. “We can go walk downtown or something.”

They go inside to change and to grab sunscreen and baseball caps. Joe grabs a book, which makes Nick laugh. Like Joe’s actually going to _read_ it.

Nick falls back asleep shortly after they’re out there again, hat resting on his face to block out the sun. Joe wakes him up for the second time, but this time, Nick has enough strength to bat him away.

“You were worried about burning, but you didn’t put any sunscreen on.”

“Too tired,” Nick mumbles.

He hears Joe sigh. “You’re helpless, Nicky,” Joe says, and how many times has Nick said those exact words to Joe?

Nick’s almost asleep again when he feels Joe’s hands on his legs, cool cream making Nick shiver as Joe spreads the sunscreen onto his skin. “Lift up.” And then he’s smearing it onto Nick’s calves, under his knees and the back of his thighs. His fingertips are brushing under the hem of Nick’s shorts, and though Joe’s hands are no longer cold, it’s still an awakening shock.

Nick sits up on his elbows, removing the hat from his face. He has to close his eyes against the now-bright sun crawling up the sky.

“Let me get your back while you’re sitting up,” Joe says, and he’s already behind Nick before Nick can even try to protest. He hears Joe squeezing the sunscreen onto his hand, and Nick tenses in anticipation. “Chill out, bro,” he says before he starts rubbing it on Nick’s shoulders.

It’s not like they’ve never done this before. Their summers used to be beach and nothing but beach, whether here in St Augustine or back in Los Angeles. It just… it feels different this time; Joe’s movements softer, yet more pronounced, almost as if he’s trying to massage all of that tenseness in Nick’s back. When Joe gets to his sides, Nick jumps because, God, that tickles.

“What was that, Nicky?” Joe asks, laughter thick in his voice, and Nick bats him away.

“Nothing, asshole.”

“I’m not so sure.” Then Joe is tickling him, downright _tickling him_ like they’re kids instead of thirty-year-old men. And Nick is breathless and completely overwhelmed because he’s still groggy and it’s a sensory overload with Joe’s torturing hand and the heat of the sun and the sand that’s seemed to have found its way onto their blanket.

And Nick seems to gain his senses enough to retaliate, and they’re wrestling for the first time in years and years, throwing sand at each other and grappling for dominance. Nick gets Joe in a failsafe headlock, and Joe pats his arm.

“Okay, okay, I’m done.” Nick holds on for a second, just to, you know, prove that he won this one, before pushing Joe away.

“You’re an obnoxious little shit,” Nick says, but it doesn’t sound too menacing when Nick can’t seem to stop grinning.

“I get that a lot, actually, but really, Nicky, you couldn’t live without me.”

Two days ago, Nick would’ve said, “Yeah, I really could.” But it’s funny how much a single morning can change that, how a little kindness from Joe has Nick eating out of the palm of his hand again. Nick’s mind spits out words like _defense mechanism_ and _you just hated him because you needed him_ , and Nick rolls his eyes at himself.

“I guess I’d survive,” Nick says, trying to recover. “I told Selena last night that I’d already buried your body.”

“We’re living on a beach. That’s a dumb idea.”

“That’s funny. Selena says the same thing.”

“Bitch,” Joe says, his voice pissy and annoyed. Nick laughs because Joe and Selena really are more alike than either of them would ever like to admit.

///

“Tell me we’ll go to the fort.”

“Yes, we’ll go to the fort,” Nick replies, so thankful that Joe has decided to revert back to his ten-year-old self today. They’re trying to find parking in downtown St. Augustine, which is turning out to be almost impossible. It’s spring, and with the nice weather come spring-breakers and Disney tourists who decide to make the trip to the Oldest City in the US. They finally find a place in some old cobblestone lot that doesn’t even have lines for the cars. If this were Nick’s car instead of a rental, they’d be finding somewhere else to park.

Joe’s got his heart set on the Columbia Restaurant because they used to eat there a lot when they were kids. Nick complies because it _is_ great food, even if the wait is usually incredibly long. They end up sitting at the bar instead of a table, so they’re able to eat right away. Joe orders sangria because the place is famous for it. Nick doesn’t say anything about it.

They stop at a shop that sells nothing but different varieties of hot sauce, and Joe thinks it’d be a great idea to try every single one. Nick rolls his eyes as Joe starts _sweating_ because the sauces are so hot and he looks like he might keel over at any moment, yet he’s trying to put on a brave face. Nick buys a couple of bottles for their dad while Joe finishes up, and when they walk outside, Joe demands milk for his parched throat.

“I’m going to die,” Joe says, breathing like it’s painful for him to do so, and Nick laughs.

“This wouldn’t happen if you weren’t being such a show off.”

Joe flips him off and he begs Nick to stop at the first ice cream place that they see. They start walking south and they come across the old market, which is next to a French bistro with tarts to die for.

Surprisingly, Joe seems to remember a lot more about the ins and outs of downtown St. Augustine than Nick does, and Joe has them to the fort within minutes of leaving the ice cream joint. The fort looks smaller than it did when Nick was younger, though the towering buildings of LA and New York probably have something to do with that.

Joe begs Nick to take a dozen pictures of him with the fake canons set up on the top level of the fort. Nick’s taking another photo of him when Joe’s head comes up.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Joe says to an older lady watching her grandchildren discover the secrets of the fort’s many crevasses. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”

Nick tries to remember the last time they took a picture together when there wasn’t an important producer or recording artist between them.

The woman smiles and nods her head, taking their camera but also keeping an eye on the kids. Joe reaches for Nick, his hand sliding to Nick’s waist and Nick grabs onto Joe’s shoulder. The picture is quick, the woman assuring them that it’s a lovely picture – “As if you two boys could take a bad photo” – and Joe’s hand lingers on Nick’s waist, his fingers trailing slowly and softly across his back when he finally pulls away. He gives Nick this gorgeous, radiant smile, and Nick can’t help but smile back.

He’s unsure though; confused. This is Old Joe; the Joe when they were kids, and Nick can’t believe that he’s changed because of one conversation. He likes it though. He’s missed this Joe, and he hadn’t even realized it.

///

David shows up bright and early next morning with a crew of guys and a truckload of roofing tiles. Joe’s still asleep when they show up (Nick still can’t believe that Joe woke up and got breakfast yesterday morning before the sun was even up), so Nick’s alone when he opens the door to a very awake, very beautiful David Henrie.

“We’re ready to start,” David said. “Just wanted to let you know we’re here so you’re not woken up by someone climbing on your roof.”

Nick smiles and nods his head, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes like a five-year-old boy. David nods back and walks away, calling to Lorenzo for the guys to get started.

“David’s here,” Nick says as he slaps his hand softly on Joe’s back.

“David?” Joe asks, obviously bewildered by sleep and the sun floating through the blinds.

“Yeah, you know, our contractor.”

“Your boyfriend,” Joe says. His face is partially covered by his pillow, but Nick can still see the way his face crinkles in disgust.

He’s not technically Nick’s boyfriend – one date hardly merits official relationship status – and he starts to say so before Joe interrupts him again. “Did he kiss you?” His voice sounds young and sleepy and Nick takes his hand away from Joe’s back.

Does he mean did David just kiss him? Did David kiss him at dinner? And why— why does Joe even care?

“I—”

“I take it back,” Joe says. “Don’t wanna know.” Joe turns his face away from Nick and burrows under the covers. “Thirty more minutes, Nicky.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Nick walks out of the room, suddenly in desperate need of coffee and dear God, pancakes sound really amazing right now too, but Nick wouldn’t know how to make those if his life depended on it. Joe traipses into the kitchen a few minutes later, glasses on his face and his hair going everywhere.

“What happened to sleeping?”

“Fucking roofers,” Joe replies. “Noisy.”

They end up heading to a paint store to actually make some decisions about colors instead of just arguing about them, but not before Nick makes Joe take him to breakfast.

“Why am I buying your breakfast again?” Joe asks, as they’re walking out of the IHOP. “I’m pretty sure we make the same amount of money. And you probably have more cause you’re anal about that kind of shit.”

“You owe me,” Nick replies.

“Oh?”

“Yeah for… putting up with you as a brother.”

“You… sadly have a point.”

Joe wants to paint the living room lilac, and while purple isn’t Nick’s favorite color, he concedes because it would probably look nice. They decide to keep the master bedroom blue since it’s Mom’s favorite color, though they’re making the shade a little darker. Joe suggests that they keep the smaller rooms rather neutral since they’re guest rooms, and Nick complies since it doesn’t really matter to him either way.

It’s a long day of looking at new furniture and arguing over upholstery versus leather and ottomans versus coffee tables. It’s nice, though, familiar bantering instead of hateful bitching, and Nick is honest-to-God smiling through most of it.

When they get to the house, the crew is still working on the roof, and they’re making pretty good progress already. David climbs down the ladder when he hears Joe and Nick pull up.

“We’ll be stopping soon,” he says after they exchange hellos. “But Enzo and I were thinking about grabbing a few beers if you guys want to join us.”

“Sure,” Joe says, without a second’s hesitation. “That’d be great.”

Nick eyes Joe questioningly, since Joe has never seemed to be a huge fan of David, especially since he knows that David’s eyes have been locked on Nick since they stepped foot into St. Augustine.

They meet them at a bar downtown near the bridge, a small Irish place with deep brew on tap. Nick doesn’t see Joe drink beer a lot, not since college at least, but he’s ordering up a Killian’s right along with David and Enzo.

“Have one, Nicky. Just one,” Joe says.

Nick gives a hesitant nod and Joe actually throws his arms in the air. “First time you’ve _ever_ said yes, little brother. Henries, you don’t even understand how huge this is.”

Nick asks for a Bud Light, not wanting anything heavy since he never drinks, and the four of them move to a small high top table.

They end up playing pool and darts, David and Lorenzo talking to numerous other people that come into the bar. David stays by Nick’s side the whole time, though.

And so does Joe.

Some part of him is almost always touching Nick: their knees under the table, his hand on Nick’s shoulder, and, once, a slide of his fingertips along Nick’s hairline that makes Nick’s back stiffen.

“I want to see you again,” David says when Joe goes to get more beer, his eyes and smile warm from alcohol, his body leaning in a little closer than normal. Nick’s feeling confined and closed in. He takes a deep breath.

“Y-yeah, me too.”

“Maybe Saturday night?”

Nick smiles. “Sure.”

“Good. I can’t wait,” David replies just when Joe’s walking up with a pitcher. Joe’s eyes move slowly from David to Nick and he clears his throat.

“You being good to my baby brother, David?” Joe asks as he sits down next to Nick again. Nick doesn’t need to look at Joe to know that his body is tense, like the arched back of a cat waiting to attack.

“Of course,” David says, leaning back and grinning, his reassured body language implying that he really _is_ taking care of Joe’s little brother.

Nick waits for Joe to tell David to watch himself, or – worse yet -- throw a punch at David’s face, but Joe doesn’t say a word.

He’s quiet the rest of the night, finishing off his pitcher as he watches Nick talk to David and Lorenzo. Since Nick came here for Joe anyway, he decides it’s time for him and Joe to leave. David frowns a bit, but recovers quickly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” David says when they walk out, and Nick wonders if David’s going to kiss him, and is thankful that he doesn’t since Joe’s standing right there.

It’s a bit of walk to their car. Joe breaks his silence halfway there, and throws his arm around Nick. “Thank you for having a beer with me.”

“Yeah,” Nick says, nodding his head. He thinks that’s all Joe is going to say, until they’re in sight of the car.

“Was it so bad? The beer?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“See?” Joe’s got a soft, pretty smile on his face, his eyes hooded. “It’s okay to have a drink and let loose a little.” He stops and turns so he’s facing Nick completely, his arm sliding down so that his hand lands on Nick’s shoulder. He gives a small smile. “Your face got all pink after you drank it, too.” Joe traces his index finger along Nick’s cheek like he’s trying to paint it rosy again.

Nick should put some distance between them, he should move away and shove Joe into the passenger seat and hit the road.

Joe’s fingers move slowly to Nick’s mouth, tracing the chapped lines of Nick’s lips with his thumb. Nick inhales, his breath shaky and he—he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. He can’t help it when his tongue darts out to meet Joe’s thumb, closing his eyes when he tastes the skin’s saltiness. When he opens them again, Joe’s eyes are dark and searching Nick’s face like it’s a map to find the Holy Grail.

“Nick,” Joe whispers, leaning closer, and Nick steps back. He has to.

Nick clears his throat. “You ready?”

Joe gets in the car without a word, his head against the window until the house is in view.

“David doesn’t—” Joe starts. “He’s not good enough for you.” Nick doesn’t expect Joe to say it, though he should. Joe always tells Nick whatever pops into his head. Well, almost everything.

“You have a better candidate?” Nick says, voice heavy with sarcasm. Nick’s ready to get into his tiny, uncomfortable bed and forget this night ever happened.

Joe doesn’t answer.

///

By Saturday, the roof’s done. David and Lorenzo’s crew started the work on the back porch yesterday, although they won’t be back to finish it until Monday because of the weekend. Nick and Joe have been outside all day, painting the house. Joe’s got a portable iPod dock set up next to the paint trays, and Nick’s forced to listen to its shuffle cycle.

Nick doesn’t make a habit of listening to the artists that he signs after their albums are finished. It’s not that they’re not good, it’s that Nick constantly thinks about work, and listening to his artists would only make that worse. Yet Nick is currently subjected to Three-Pronged Fork’s latest single while he’s stuck on a ladder pressing a paint roller against the stucco of the house.

“I never should’ve let Bianca mix this song,” Nick says.

“And why is that?” Joe asks. Both of them are shirtless at this point. The sun is brutal today, and they were sweating through their t-shirts by noon.

“Because the guitar is completely drowning out the bass here. This song would be ten times better if they emphasized what Moon was playing instead of what Bianca was.”

“So this is about Bianca.”

“No, it’s about the song.”

“The song is fine,” Joe says, bending down to paint a lower area of the wall.

“It could be more than fine, though.”

“They make their money, don’t they? Can’t you just listen to the song and not think about work?”

No, he can’t. Especially not this week. Ever since Monday night’s fiasco outside the car, Nick has spent the majority of the week on the phone with Kevin and Selena, trying to push the contract he was working on before this forced sabbatical. Joe finally dragged him out of the house today so that they could paint, reminding Nick why they’re here. And Nick had almost forgotten that their reason for this trip to St. Augustine wasn’t to test Nick’s self-control. Of course, that test is even harder now. He doesn’t just want to kill Joe anymore, he wants to—he wants… Nick shakes his head. He can’t decide which is worse, trying to remember that Joe is his brother, or trying to forget.

Nick’s eyes lock onto Joe’s shiny skin, sweat pooling into the small of his back. He thinks about how much saltier his skin would taste right now compared to the taste of Joe’s finger the other night. Nick quickly averts his gaze, scolding himself because this is fucked up even for them.

“What time are you going out with David?” Joe asks.

“Uh…” Nick forgot that they were supposed to go on a date tonight. “Not sure actually.” David’s been a constant presence at the house all week, but Nick’s been holed up inside trying to work on the contract… trying to get away from both Joe and David, actually.

“Should probably find out; wouldn’t want to, you know, stand him up.” Nick almost drops his paint roller, his eyes rushing to Joe who’s still bent over. It hits Nick so suddenly that it’s almost like vertigo. Joe’s tone is bitter, the words almost spit out with disdain, and it’s been ten years, but Nick finally understands.

Nick was a stupid teenage boy who stood his brother up and Joe—Joe was in love with him; has been in love with him all of this time. Every fling, every marriage, every late night at the newest trendy club was because Joe just wanted the impossible; he just wanted his brother.

Nick’s blood is pounding, fear creeping coldly through his veins like an icy stream. He climbs down the ladder, trying to calm himself, but his labored breathing is probably giving him away.

“You okay, man?” Joe asks, his forehead creased with concern.

“Yeah, I think I just need to check my levels.”

“Let me clean this up and I’ll get you some juice.”

“No, no. I’ll be all right. You can keep going.” Nick goes into the house before Joe can argue the matter. He has a text from David asking about dinner at seven, and right now, David seems like a much-needed distraction. He replies with a yes and takes a very long, very hot shower.

///

Nick was right. David is a distraction. A hot, hard, perfect distraction. They ate dinner at a tiny little Greek place with amazing tzatziki sauce, and now they’re horizontal on David’s couch. David’s on top of Nick, his hard cock rubbing against Nick’s through their jeans, their mouths and tongues tangling for dominance. Nick throws off David’s shirt, his hands roaming over his chest and arms, and yes, this is exactly what Nick needs.

“Nick,” David groans before moving for Nick’s mouth again, and suddenly all Nick can think about is what Joe’s shoulders would feel like and how would Joe sound all breathless and desperate because of him. His mind is a chant of _Joe, Joe, Joe_ , and he bites his lip to keep his mouth shut while David sucks and kisses his way down Nick’s neck.

David sucks Nick’s cock, slick and fast, and as long as Nick closes his eyes; he can pretend this way that it’s Joe’s mouth on his dick and Joe’s hair that his fingers are tangling in. He comes down David’s throat, a rough groan escaping his lips. He keeps his eyes closed as he gets David off with his fist, and he asks himself when his life got this fucked up.

///

Nick wakes up to a bright sun and a brother staring at him from his own bed.

“I see you and David had a nice night.”

Nick didn’t let David’s mouth linger too long on his neck, but he let him go to town on the rest of his body. Nick is usually up before Joe, so he thought nothing of going to bed with his shirt off. He looks down and sees mouth-shaped bruises along his collarbone and ribs. They’re light, but they’re noticeable.

Nick glances at Joe, watching the way Joe’s eyes trail across Nick’s torso and chest, and Nick would love to see Joe’s face as he catalogued the bruises _he_ left on Nick. He shivers.

“I finished painting the house,” Joe says when he finally looks away.

“Already?”

“Yeah. I know you’re in a hurry to get back to LA.”

“Bullshit.”

Joe looks up, surprised at Nick’s outburst. “What? Don’t you want to get out of here? You’ve been bitching about it since Mom and Dad told us about it.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been fucking loving it. You’re away from Dad and Taylor and A&R. No, this… this is about David.”

“David?” Joe asks, his voice tight and serious. Nick is sitting up now, and they’re facing each other on their opposite beds.

“Yes, David. You hate him because—”

“He’s an asshole.”

“—because you’re jealous.”

Joe’s jaw clenches and his face pinches. He takes a deep breath. “Jealous?”

“Yes, because you want—” Nick’s not sure if he can say it, if he can fully acknowledge what’s happening between them.

“Want what?” Joe asks and Nick looks down at his feet. “Say it… what do I want, Nick?”

Nick looks back at Joe and they stare at one another for what feels like hours or even days. Nick tears his eyes away and goes into the bathroom to put some distance between him and his brother. He showers and shaves, taking longer than necessary to give them a chance to cool off, and when he comes out, Joe is gone.

///

Nick paints the living room Joe’s shade of purple while listening to old Tracy Chapman and David Gray. He steps back and looks at his work after he finishes the first wall, thinking that it actually is a pretty nice color, though he’d never tell Joe that.

His mind constantly flickers from Joe’s fingers tracing his lips, to imagining Joe when he had a gorgeous David Henrie right in front of him, to seeing Joe’s face when Nick called him out on his jealousy. And what’s next? What could this possibly have to offer either of them? With the booze and women and too much work and too much stress, and let’s add a little incestuous brotherly love on top of that.

Nick’s starting on the second wall when he hears a knock at the door. When he opens it, David’s standing on his doormat, looking, well, gorgeous with his too-tight t-shirt and black jeans. He’s smirking like always, but it fades quickly when he doesn’t get a smile back from Nick.

“You okay?” David asks.

“I…” Nick supposes that this needs to be it. This thing with David isn’t fair to any of them. He sighs. He decides to take his cue from Joe and just say what he’s thinking. “I didn’t know it until I got here, but… I’m supposed to be with someone else.”

“Ah,” David says, nodding. He’s quiet for a moment, but then he gives Nick a small smile. “You love him?”

Nick shrugs. “No? Yes… I don’t know, really.”

“Well, I hope you do. I mean, if you’re giving up all this,” David gestures to himself, “then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

Nick laughs. “Your humility is really what makes you attractive, David.”

“I try.”

Nick feels the pressure easing off his chest at David’s reaction. Nick might not call it a breakup since they were never in a relationship, but telling someone you don’t want to fool around anymore when you’ve only done it once must be a hard hit to the ego. Nick was scared he might be forced to say something terribly cliché like, “it’s not you; it’s me.”

“Do we need to… close the account or—”

“No! No, you guys are doing great and if it wasn’t for, you know – I wouldn’t be doing this.”

David nods and takes a step forward. He cups Nick’s jaw in his hand and gives him a soft kiss, his lips a brief press on Nick’s mouth before moving away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow to work on the porch.”

“All right.”

“And if you get lonely and tired of your brother…”

Nick laughs again. “Yeah, I know who to call.” David pats his face before walking away toward his truck. He waves at Nick after he gets inside and Nick walks back into the house.

It starts raining shortly after that, and Nick wonders if the rain will propel Joe home faster. The car is still in the drive, so when Joe took off, it must have been on foot.

The sky is still dark and spilling heavy rain when the front door opens. The living room is almost finished and Nick turns away from the wall to see a soaking-wet Joe stepping inside the house. Joe runs his fingers through his hair, and shakes the water from his hand onto his floor, a couple of drops landing on Nick as he walks over.

“I was trying to find you a guitar, because… you know, I know you want to play again. I found one but I didn’t want to bring it home in the rain.”

Nick tries not to smile, but he can’t help it. Joe got him a guitar, yeah, and they’re going to make music together again. That’s all Nick’s wanted for so long, even if he didn’t know it. Yet Joe called this _home_ and for the first time, Nick realizes that it is. Home. A small grin ghosts across his face and he looks down.

“You all right?” Nick asks when he looks up again, his heart pounding so loudly that he’s surprised Joe can’t hear it from where he’s standing.

“Well, besides rocking that wet dog look, yeah, I’m all right.”

“Nah, you don’t look—” _Wet dog_ isn’t what Nick would use to describe the way that Joe looks right now, with his baby blue shirt clinging to his frame like it’s holding on for dear life. “You look…”

Joe stares at Nick with his lips parted, hope written all over his face and Nick should touch him or kiss him or do _something._ Silence stretches between them, tension growing thicker by the second, and Nick licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

“You’ll get sick if you don’t get out of those clothes,” he whispers.

Nick can’t look Joe in the eyes when he steps towards him, too scared of what he’ll see. Nick curls his fingers in the bottom hem of Joe’s shirt and runs his thumb along the sliver of skin that peeks through. Joe gasps, and Nick has to close his eyes to ground himself. It’s Joe’s hand on his arm that makes him blink and look up at Joe, who’s giving him a small smile. Nick can’t help but grin back, and then Joe’s kissing him so softly it’s as if Joe’s scared Nick’s going to fall apart under his mouth. His lips are cold from the spring rain and all Nick can think about is warming up every inch of Joe’s skin with his mouth and his hands and his body.

Joe clutches Nick closer, pressing their hips together, and Nick slides his hands along Joe’s back, underneath his shirt. Joe’s mouth is stronger against his now, his tongue slipping inside Nick’s mouth, brushing against Nick’s own. Nick thinks about how this would be even better without clothes in the way, and since getting Joe out of his wet clothes was the point of all of this, he decides to continue.

Joe lifts his arms to allow Nick to divest him of his shirt, and Nick throws it to the floor with a _thwap_. A few stray raindrops rest on Joe’s shoulders and slide down his chest. Nick leans forward and mouths the drops on Joe’s right shoulder.

“Nick,” Joe calls, and Nick remembers how he wondered what Joe would sound like breathing his name like he needed Nick more than anything. It’s even better than he thought it would be.

Nick kisses every bead of water on Joe’s chest, and Joe’s hands are lost in Nick’s hair and pulling him closer when Nick teases Joe’s nipples with his teeth. Joe’s almost babbling at this point, but Nick drinks in every word of want and astonishment.

Nick’s hands move to the button of Joe’s shorts, but he hesitates to make sure this really is okay; as if he doesn’t know that Joe wants this more than anything. Joe takes Nick’s hand and presses it hard against Joe’s cock, already half-hard under the wet fabric, and he thrusts against Nick’s palm. Joe tries to smirk but he loses it when he is overcome by how good it feels.

“I’m cold,” Joe says, goosebumps rising all along his skin. Nick gets with the program then, unbuttoning Joe’s shorts, peeling them off with Joe’s briefs in one fell swoop, though it’s a bit awkward since they’re wet and clingy from the rain. Nick runs his index finger over the top of Joe’s cock from base to tip, and then wraps his fingers around it. Joe gasps as Nick rubs him until his dick is completely hard in his hand.

Joe sways into him, his hand reaching for Nick’s shoulder like he’ll fall over if he doesn’t have something to hold onto. Nick tries to back him up against the door, but then Joe pulls away.

“Nick, I’ve wanted this for so long. Even when I didn’t know that this is what I wanted, I did on some basic level. Do you get that? My world fucking revolved around you when we were kids and I realized when you started dating that stupid girl that… that I wanted to be her more than anything. That I wanted you to want me like that.” He cups Nick’s face and kisses him softly. “I don’t know if you’re just doing this for me or because you want it, too. I don’t know if we’re ever going to do it again, so I’d like if we did this in some other place than the doorway.”

Nick nods, giving Joe a lopsided smile and kisses him again. Nick expects some sort of crazy, frantic rush to their bedroom, stumbling while Joe takes off Nick’s clothes, tripping on the pants around his ankles. It’s not, though. Joe takes his hand and leads him to the room like they’re taking an afternoon stroll through the park. Naked. Joe shuts the door behind them when Nick realizes they’ll be doing this on one of their twin sized beds.

“We should’ve remodeled the master bedroom first,” Nick says, and Joe shrugs at him.

“It’s more fun this way, I think. It’s like we’re still teenagers.” Joe walks into the bathroom and comes out with a bottle of lotion, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Nick rolls his eyes. “Are you going to act like a teenager, too?”

“Hmm, maybe.” Joe walks over to him and slips Nick’s t-shirt over his head.

“Your hair was longer back then,” Nick says as he runs his fingers through Joe’s short locks.

“Yeah, it was. It can be long again, if you want.” He ducks his head shyly, almost embarrassed that he offered to do that if Nick wanted it.

“Maybe,” Nick replies, hoping that Joe reads that for the _yes_ that it is.

“Lie down,” Joe says, nodding his head toward Nick’s bed. Nick obeys him and runs his eyes along Joe’s body properly for the first time.

Joe and Nick have always been competitive with their bodies just like they compete with most aspects of their lives. Muscles have always come easily to Nick – nothing a few games of softball or playing drums in the studio can’t help. Joe works out constantly, though, always fighting to keep his body toned – and dear _God,_ is it ever toned. Suddenly, all Nick can think about is letting his mouth and tongue touch every plane and crevasse of Joe’s body.

When Joe finally takes off Nick’s pants, he seems to be thinking the same thing. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes traveling down Nick’s arms and torso, hesitating at Nick’s hipbones and resting on his cock. “So beautiful.”

Nick reaches up and kisses him, pulling Joe flush against him, and all that skin against his makes him moan. “Want you so bad,” Nick says when Joe kisses down his chest.

“Yeah? Tell me want you want.”

“Please, just…” Nick swallows because he’s never asked this in his life. He’s always been the one in charge and calling the shots at work, in his relationships, and in the bedroom. He looks Joe in the eyes, though, and knows that this is what he wants. “Fuck me.”

Joe licks into Nick’s mouth then, their bodies rutting against one another, hot, slippery slide of his cock against Joe’s, but Nick pushes Joe away. “Now. Not going to last much longer if you don’t.”

“Don’t have the stamina, Nicky?”

It’s automatic to flip Joe off, but Nick doesn’t expect Joe to take his hand and suck Nick’s middle and index fingers into is mouth, his tongue swirling around and getting it nice and wet. He slides the finger out of his mouth and leads Nick’s hand to his hole. “You start. I’ve never done this before.”

Nick nods, wondering if Joe is going to watch him instead of joining in, but after a couple of minutes, Joe’s slicking up his own fingers with lotion and pressing a finger in along with Nick’s. Joe groans.

“Have you ever—I mean, do you normally do this? This way.”

“No, it’s usually… reversed,” Nick replies. Joe looks a tiny bit confused, so Nick continues. “I’m usually in your spot.”

“Oh,” Joe says and he stops, sliding his fingers out of Nick and pulling on Nick’s hand as well. “Well, we don’t have to—“

“I want to.” Nick removes his fingers too, and he reaches for the lotion and slicks up Joe’s cock, his grip firm as he strokes him. He pulls Joe closer to him and brings Joe’s cock to nudge up against him. “Go ahead.”

“Slow?”

“Heh, yeah. Slow.”

When Joe pushes into him, Nick hisses but keeps pulling Joe toward him so that he won’t stop.

“Jesus, Nick, so tight and—” he moans when he bottoms out. Nick kisses him when Joe finally starts thrusting against him, and feeling Joe’s body, finally warm with friction, moving against him is better than he could ever imagine.

It’s sweet how hard Joe’s trying to go slowly, how scared he is that he’ll hurt Nick, that it won’t be good for him. But Nick wants this to be good for Joe, too, and he grabs Joe’s ass and pulls him even closer. “Just fuck me, Joe. Hard.” He gives him a quick kiss. “Promise I won’t break.”

Joe sounds so good, breathy groans escaping his lips with every thrust. Nick brings Joe’s hand to his dick, and Joe takes over from there, wringing his cock tightly until Nick is coming, pleasure spiraling and intense through his body.

“Oh, God,” Joe says, Nick’s body clenching around him and after a few thrusts, he’s chasing after Nick and spilling inside of him. Joe stays propped up on his elbows for a few minutes, both of them panting and trying to calm their pounding hearts. Joe kisses Nick again, so sweetly this time that it makes Nick ache.

He pulls away and looks at Joe’s face, his pretty eyelashes framing brown eyes and his soft smile. “This isn’t it, by the way,” Nick whispers.

“What?”

“You said you weren’t sure if this was a one-time thing or not. It’s not.”

Joe’s mouth brushes against Nick’s again.

If it takes them almost two months to finish fixing up their beach house, no one really needs to know why.

///

EPILOGUE

“I’m really starting to freak out,” Selena says, coffee in hand as Nick walks into the foyer of the company’s office building.

“Why?”

“Because Joe is here… all the time! We’re going on month two and I think Joe is actually here more days than not. And actually working.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“He said he’d be working in your office this morning. I don’t understand since he has a perfectly great office a few floors away from ours where I don’t have to see his ugly mug. Also, he said something about finishing a song that you were working on. Since when are you writing?”

Nick grins and kisses the top of her head.

“Lisa Burcher starts recording today, so I’ll be in the studio if you need me,” Nick says before heading to his office.

Joe isn’t actually in there when Nick walks in, but Nick is throwing his messenger bag on his desk when he hears the door close and feels Joe press up behind him.

“So I know that it’s time to work with Lisa, but…” Joe kisses his neck. “I won this free trip to a beach house in Florida! For _this weekend_. It’s a one-time-only deal, and we really can’t pass it up, Nicky.”

Nick rolls his eyes and turns around. “I’m pretty sure we have too much work to do.”

“I’m pretty sure we haven’t even fucked on the beach yet.”

“I hear that’s highly overrated. Sand going in places sand should never, ever go.”

Joe smirks. “We’ll never know till we try it. Plus,” he leans closer and kisses Nick chastely. “You’re kind of kinky. You might like it.”

Nick sighs and pushes Joe away. “We’re using a very large blanket.”

“I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

And Nick hates to hear it, and he especially hates to admit it, but resisting Joe is something he’ll never be able to do.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Fall Out Boy's song "Dead on Arrival." Every place mentioned in this story, with the exception of the beach house, Sandra Henrie's house, and the liquor store actually exists. The things that happen, though, do not.
> 
> This story is dedicated to nachekana. Nat's always been with me every step of the way on every story I write (unless it involves Denise Jonas), and she was with me when this story wasn't even ABOUT Joe and Nick. She had to go and leave me for Australia, though, and I miss her like crazy every day. So, this is for my twin.
> 
> A million thanks to my DARLING, sarcasticpixie for giving this an incredibly fast and hilarious beta that was complete with Kanye jokes (all time). You're the B to my LG, bb. ILU!!
> 
> Also many thanks and much love to inthenameofjuc, aldehyde, and blackwayfarers for giving it a read-through or five at some point of the writing process. And to Rach, again, for picking out the title.


End file.
